Post by jakeway on Jul 22, 2011 23:01:14 GMT -5
(NOTE: Sorry this RP is so late. This week is one that had to be lived to truly understand.)
Ewan Jakeway pulled himself down into the cold steel chair settled near one of the back corners of the waiting area of the large, somewhat generically square office of the EUW. As it was, the place was considered a common place of business among the staff of Extreme United Wrestling, and was now under the eye of Chad Kennedy, which was who Jakeway was presently waiting for. It was a nice day out. Ewan’s eyes briefly glanced over to the small round window, the only one of its kind in the offices, and gazed at the sunlight shining through from the totally white clouds into the otherwise plain large room. Jakeway then gazed at the staff members moving like they’re on a mission to wherever it is they need to be, with whatever work they have with them looking important enough. He paid little attention to the posters of EUW hanging around, as well as the portraits that seemed to be the replacement for those self-motivation posters. Rather than cats hanging on poles, you got sweaty, half-naked muscle-bound men with hate-filled glares in their eyes as they looked back at you. Not much of a cozy-making environmental getup.
But soon enough, Jakeway knew he’d be back in the ring among those types. The “break” was up, and the ring had decided to call him back. Well, technically it was the very people he was sitting in this cold, cheap piece of steel waiting on who had summoned him back to compete again in the ring…but Jakeway liked to pretend it was more than just a few businessmen with mostly money on the mind who wanted Ewan Jakeway to return for another week of competitive brawling among hordes of screaming, excited fans of the sport. It just made things more fun. The calm and efficient manner in which these EUW staff members would keep on going, but Jakeway knew that sooner or later it would be stirred up. That is, if the rumors that were going were true. Would things change among the EUW in the coming months? And if they did, would Jakeway still have a place among the politics that would likely be set into motion? He wasn’t sure himself, but Jakeway had seen some power vacuums like that in his day. This peace and quiet of the EUW could very well explode into a million little bits, whether it was in the offices with the suits and their associates, or in the ring among wrestlers on the roster. Only a few people knew what was really going on right now, and Jakeway knew he was not one of them. Still, boredom does give one time to just let their thoughts ramble on and create points worth following in the period of idly sitting by…in this very unpleasant chair.
Fidgeting around, Jakeway tilts his head lazily to the side, eyeballing nobody in particular in the office as he crosses his arms over his leather jacket and folds one leg into his lap. Wearing the mask over his head, Jakeway has gotten some looks himself from people, particularly Chad Kennedy’s receptionist who situated him in the waiting area until Mr. Kennedy was done with whatever business was presently keeping him behind closed doors. Jakeway taps his gloved hands on his knees and hums to himself softly. He wasn’t fond of sitting around like a stump, especially when everyone else around him was busy with their own work. Jakeway wanted to train. He wanted to get focused on whatever was next in store for him here in the company. He wanted…SOMETHING! Being told to come to a dinky office and sit outside waiting for your boss to show himself wasn’t much of anything, not really. Heck, he even knew why he was here, so it wasn’t some big secret that Jakeway could at least muse over. He knew what the deal was, he was pretty sure nothing had changed regarding his stay here in the company, and he even knew his opponent in the next show:
Shawn Ashen, more-or-less your old-fashioned (and somewhat stereotypical) rich man who liked to do nothing but make the poor people like stupid and…well, poor. You couldn’t put much of a remix on that tune. You were stupid and poor in every which way, even when it came to your talent over his, and nothing would change that in Ashen’s eyes. Jakeway examines his appearance from head-to-toe, figuring someone like Ashen, who was always sporting classy suits and a clean appearance, would not approve of his twenty dollar jacket fitted over an old shirt over even older slacks. As for the mask? Jakeway wasn’t sure if high-priced equipment like this would catch Ashen’s attention, but that didn’t really matter. Either way, Jakeway crosses his arms and leans back a bit.
“Jeez-o-loo. How can life be full of so many surprises and interesting things, and yet I’m so bored right now? That just seems to go against the basic qualities of living…”
He tilts his head up and watches one of the several ceiling fans swinging high above for several seconds. His regular eyes roll toward Chad’s receptionist at her desk as she talks on the phone and writes something down. Man, he’d give anything just to be able to get some himself paper and a pen to write. He could make some mental notes, sketch out some ring strategies he had been cooking up, or he could just doodle. Going all the way back to second grade. And third grade. And fourth. And so on. But there was not much that could be done to fulfill that desire to amuse himself. He was grownup, and grownups waited patiently in offices when their job called them down to the office to speak to the boss. Still, would even an old “Newsweek” be too much to ask for? Jakeway stretches out his wrist, flexing it to keep the blood flowing.
“I can’t let myself get flimsy just by sitting here. I just want to finally meet up with the officials on behalf of F.I.E.L.D.S. and then focus on wrestling. Wrestling. That’s the job here. I’d exchange suits with one of these guys or gals if I were meant to spend my career in an office. Meanwhile Ashen’s probably in his own office/exotic gymnasium working out and preparing to compete in these next few days.”
Jakeway lifts his hand up and runs it across his mask, lightly tapping the mouthpiece that allows him to virtually speak his mind and catch no odd glances from anyone. Of course, even if he didn’t have that ability and was sitting here alone, he could fool people by saying he had a Bluetooth. Rich people had those, didn’t they? Jakeway figured that Shawn Ashen’s downloaded profile would not tell him that much. Probably not. That sort of information did not tie into Ashen’s wrestling background, which was what the database was strictly meant to store for his use. It just gave the specifics. Ashen, unlike Jakeway, felt that honor was nothing worth sporting in the ring, and the end result was the only thing that mattered. You were either a winner or you were a loser. Total black and white thinking. Winners had titles and/or impressive records and resumes on their side. Losers had nothing like that, or they were so minimal it made you the lowest common denominator. You were the poor type of wrestler compared to Shawn Ashen’s Enterprise of “I Am Great And You Are Not. Choke On It.” Some kind of character, this Ashen.
And yet Jakeway felt he had done pretty well so far for himself in the EUW when it came to those basic numbers of winning and losing. His debut had been impressive, taking on two veterans and actually pinning one of them cleanly. Then there had been his bout with Drake Johnson, a match that had gotten some talk; at least as much as one could ask for given that nobody outside the arena audience saw it. Still, that was the type of thing that let you know if you were something in the eyes of the audience. Their word of mouth meant everything in an untelevised contest. If the name Ewan Jakeway started to step up sometime soon among the company and through the roster, it was because people were seeing his performances every show in that ring, and they were going out to the rest of the world telling someone about it. It could be the Internet world they tell, other wrestling fans, or even themselves. It could continue on and possibly bring people back again to watch someday. Of course, if Jakeway was viewed as terrible in the eyes of fans and his peers and that word spread, it would have the same freedom to. Either way, with Ashen’s views on the subject matter of winning/losing…could Jakeway be viewed as a winner because he had not lost a match thus far? Maybe. Maybe not. Most likely the latter. The rich would always find a way to downplay any successes of the lower class that Jakeway knew he was a part of. It’s a fluke, it’s cheap dumb luck, or their opposition was already bad and that’s why they won. Jakeway had heard it all before. All that talk, all those putdowns, all that underestimating; it worked its way through staff and wrestler alike.
“I AM wondering what sort of talk Mr. Kennedy’s going to trying to play toward me when I see him. I admit I do not like all the backstage stuff that goes on between suits like him, but it still presents an interesting scenario I can play to later if need be.”
He looks toward the office door of Chad Kennedy and muses to himself about the EUW bossman’s personality once he finally emerges from his office. He lightly plays with the end of his leather jacket in thought, suddenly finding himself thinking about his Redemption brothers, Roman and Ethen. Truth be told, they cared even less for the politics among wrestling companies than Ewan did. That was a bit of the journey that led the three of them to the EUW. Jakeway smiled behind his mask, suddenly holding a hand to the side of his mouth.
“I suppose I COULD try out that communication wiring on the suit while I wait; see if I can’t find what those guys are up to…”
Jakeway continues to smile, as if he knows he’s being mischievous. Or at least the other two pieces of Redemption would see it that way he figured. He returns the mask audio to normal and turns his head toward the receptionist as she types out a report on her computer.
“Excuse me, ma’am, but would you happen to know if I will be waiting much longer?”
The receptionist, a cute mid-30s blonde, looks up from her computer to the masked man in the chair nearby.
“I wouldn’t think so. Mr. Kennedy’s just in a conference call right now.”
She turns back to her work and Jakeway nods his head. Jackpot. Jakeway switches back to having his voice otherwise muted to everyone else nearby. He lifts his hand up and holds down a button under his chin. A buzzing sound is heard, followed by the dial tone like your hear with any normal phone. Suddenly, his mask emits a small blue glow as the dial tone ends and soft classical music is heard in the background within Jakeway’s head. Ethen listening to classical music? Go figure. Jakeway lowers the red “eye” of his mask and presses another button. A red line appears to shoot out of it a few inches away and then widens into a holographic image. The moving image itself is a room, a small portion of the Redemption “HQ” (as Jakeway liked to think of it as at least) that appears in front of Jakeway. In a way, it’s like his own little webcam view into his team’s locker area, and presently he sees Ethen Bonelo playing chess with the board resting atop an old bar stool. The man in all black with the ominous black mask looks to be in deep concentration as he stares at the chess board, thinking out his next move as he plays against himself it looks like. Jakeway smiles at the sight of his partner. This is the part he knows will make him mischievous in the eyes of his more serious counterparts.
“Try moving the Knight to E6.”
Bonelo suddenly sits up straight, caught completely off-guard by the voice calling out to him seemingly from thin air.
“What the f—“
“Ethen, it’s Jakeway.”
“Ewan? Where the hell are you?”
“Ah, so you can hear me. Good. How’s it going?”
The uniform of Bonelo’s does nothing to lessen the awkwardness as he looks around the locker-room for wherever Jakeway’s voice is coming from. He moves the bar stool with the chess board aside as he rises to his feet and shifts his cape behind him so that he may move forward. It’s a bit more difficult to see his eyes with that mask on his head, but Jakeway knows from the years they’ve worked together that the man is wearing a puzzled expression as he slowly moves around the room.
“Uhhh…fine. And I assume everything is okay by you…Jakeway?”
“Yes. Everything is ok, I suppose. I’m at the EUW offices waiting to talk to Kennedy. Not sure it’s something you’d take much interest in, unless you like watching tiles grow older and older by the seconds.”
“I see…and why did you suddenly summon your spirit to appear and speak to me for that? On that matter, where are you?!”
“I take it you do not enjoy my company. I saw you playing chess there moments before I arrived. Why is Roman not there? He should get in on this.”
“He’s around. Just…okay, okay this is REALLY weird. Ewan, if this is a prank, just pop up and end it already. I’m trying to concentrate.”
“The thing is, this is not a prank, Ethen. I wired our locker-room to my suit. I can see you and I can hear you now.”
“You did what?!”
“I figured it would add up later on down the line. See, I just couldn’t help but notice that despite our best efforts to maintain a team-like unity, we’ve all been at our own individual workings lately since we joined the company.”
“And bugging our locker-room will end all of that?”
Jakeway could tell that this comment was not born of amusement but general curiousness, as if Ethen thinks Jakeway would legitimately think reason would come of this act.
“We’ve both got our ways to settle into teamwork zones, Ethen. Why, I know you and Roman have yours. Mine will have to wait until I get back, and so I figured I would drop in to see what the rest of Redemption is up to. Nothing else, and no harm intended.”
Bonelo slowly seems to calm a bit from the initial bafflement at having a disembodied voice speak to him. He goes back to his chair and eyes the chess board before looking around the locker-room, still unsure where Jakeway is emitting his voice from. Little does he know it’s in the pot. The potted plant, not a batch of drugs.
“I’m just trying to concentrate on my match. Roman and I are working against an opposing tag team this week, and I’m trying to piece together some plans to run past my partner when he returns.”
“At least you get to plan right now. I’m stuck waiting in this office for Kennedy to get out of his meeting or something. Not my type of planning setup, in all honesty. Say, you have anything for me on Shawn Ashen? I have some minimalistic bios to go by, but not much else.”
“Just that you’re a low form of scum against his intellectualness and complete in-ring perfection. Mostly the type you’ve always been placed against in the past, but I don’t suppose you need me to tell you that.”
“I hear he’s in the money business. That makes him quite snobby I’ve been reading. Must ring some bells for you too, huh Ethen?”
Ethen goes silent for a few seconds as he places his hand on one of the chess pieces and moves it forward. He mumbles something to himself, and Jakeway only catches parts of the sentence.
“Go……and then left….Oh, sorry, Ewan. I find it hard to multi-task sometimes, especially when a conversation is one of my tasks.”
“People like Ashen are a pretty reminding callback to the same opposition that always stood in the way of our team, aren’t they?”
“Yeah, I suppose they are. It’s always the money, Ewan. Money or the Goddamn power. Still, in some ways those vices buy them a lot of additional talent and backing, so you do well to take him serious. The rich can and will buy you up a bad way if you let them…or they’ll just buy you out.”
“Ah. When do I not take something serious, Ethen?”
Ethen exhales slowly, shaking his head as he does not even pretend he’ll answer that question of seriousness coming from a man who wired the team’s entire locker-room to his bizarre uniform/practical subunit workstation. Jakeway knows that is what Bonelo is thinking, and it makes him crack a smile under his mask. Several moments of silence pass, causing Jakeway to find himself feeling bored again. Clearly Ethen isn’t bored with his chess game allowing his mind to stay sharp, but the minimal office chatter and ringing phones steadily eats away at any concentration Jakeway could have built against Ashen. Jakeway flaps his gums and sighs. Bonelo seems to catch wind of his partner’s bored tone and his eyes roll up in the direction of the noise.
“Sorry I can’t amuse you, Jakeway.”
“Eh, hopefully this meeting will get to ending soon and I—“
Suddenly, Chad Kennedy’s office door opens and the man himself walks out, paying no attention to the masked Jakeway even as he passes by him in the chair. Jakeway looks toward the EUW bossman and reaches his hand up to his mask.
“Shit, speak of the devil. Gotta go, Ethen. Give Roman my greetings.”
He doesn’t even wait for a response before powering off the holographic image of the Redemption locker-room and then rising to his feet. However, Jakeway suddenly stops in mid-movement as he realizes what he’s done in his haste.
“Great.”
He quickly reaches a gloved hand into his pocket and pulls out the small padded jar. He then reaches into his slacks and pulls out quarter, which he promptly inserts into small slot on the jar’s top. The quarter hits the bottom of the jar and Jakeway, satisfied that’ll keep him from reverting to old ways for a while, returns his focus to Kennedy, who is walking past the desk of his receptionist looking rather uninterested in the office setting just like Jakeway has been for the past half-hour. He slowly moves forward, addressing his leather jacket a bit trying to look nicer for his EUW superior. Kennedy leans forward to his receptionist while fidgeting with his tie.
“I’m out to lunch, Daisy. You, uh, just keep things at a halt if they try to get to my office while I’m out, got it?”
The blonde receptionist looks away from the computer and nods her head in understanding.
“Yes, sir.”
Kennedy starts to leave when the receptionist seems to recall Jakeway who had been waiting all this time.
“Oh, and by the way, Mr. Kennedy. A Mr. Ewan Jakeway of the F.I.E.L.D.S. program is here to see you.”
“Where?”
Kennedy looks around in confusion. He then turns around completely and sees Ewan standing a few feet away. The EUW General Manager cocks an eyebrow as he looks the mask wearing, leather-jacket dressed man over like he’s a total oddball. Jakeway can honestly admit he probably does look a little odd compared to Chad in his nice suit and tie. A few seconds of awkward silence pass before the GM approaches Jakeway with an artificial grin that does next to nothing to hide his disinterest and holds out his hand.
“Ah yes, Jakeway. The Asylum’s been…talking about you.”
That sounded like the picture perfect example of a boss bullshitting an employee he has no real clue about, but Jakeway pretends to not notice as he shakes Kennedy’s hand. He says something; however, it goes unheard as Jakeway, in the process of addressing his swearing moment, forgot to switch his audio back to where others can hear him outside the mask, and so the shaking of Kennedy's hand is only followed by silence. Kennedy frowns a bit at that fact.
"You know, most people say 'hello' when greeting the General Manager of the company who keeps them in a job."
Jakeway realizes his goof and holds up a finger to stop Kennedy for a few seconds as he presses the button on the side of his mask and is then capable of speaking to his boss now.
"Sorry, Sir. Just a minor goof with my uniform is all."
Chad cocks an eyebrow once more at the reasoning behind Jakeway's initial silence, but takes little interest otherwise as he rolls his eyes. Jakeway cringes within, knowing he just made himself look like an idiot already.
“Say, I’m kind of late for lunch as it is. If you still want to talk, you mind if we do it quick-like on my way out?”
Jakeway responds with a nod and the two begin to walk across the office room.
“So sir, I figured I should finally make our acquaintances before I continue my business further here in the EUW. I, uh, I know I’ve competed here a few times already thus far, and I wasn’t sure if this conversation would need to be had earlier.”
“It’s fine. You compete, leave the talking to other people. Right now the Asylum’s working around changes that are still pretty new, so I’m sure our meeting not happening right away would pose no problem among my company. Press conferences and the like to calm any fears and put others in their place are what I'm dealing with at the moment. I actually have one next week. It’s all about giving the people of the Asylum some more news every so often to let them know we are the best and we plan to stay that way with staff and all.”
Kennedy turns a corner and stumbles a bit, catching himself almost smoothly if not for the expletive he mutters darkly. He stops and turns back to Jakeway, eyeing him again like he’s some bizarre alien life-form. Jakeway nods his head once.
“I see. I actually met one of your staff a few weeks ago. Rocko MacCraw.”
Kennedy rolls his eyes at the mention of the cameraman who welcomed Jakeway to EUW a few weeks back while also posing as his contact that would introduce him to the company.
“The man’s pretty overrated in my book. He thinks that just because he was among the EUW’s cameramen back when this place first opened its doors it makes him some top elite among the ranks. Still, good employee who knows how to follow the top brass when it tells him to do something. You just follow his example and you’ll both be a pair to me, got it? Jesus!”
For the second time Kennedy stumbles and this time stops as he leans against a desk, staring at his shoe which has come untied and allowed the freed laces to hinder him as he walks. He looks toward Jakeway as he sits his bottom on the desktop.
“Say, Jakeway, would you kindly tie my shoe for me?”
Jakeway lifts his eyebrow up in confusion at the request. He stares down at Kennedy’s untied shoe and then back to the GM, who looks dead serious as he waits.
“I would do it myself, but I pulled something the other night with a lady friend. It’s difficult to bend, you see.”
Jakeway continues to find himself unnerved by this situation as Kennedy slowly rotate his foot, as if it will somehow be more inviting for Jakeway to kneel down and tie the man’s shoe for him. He slowly sighs within and kneels down to Kennedy’s shoe. He begins to tie it while Kennedy rests like a champ on the office desk, a small cocky grin crossing his face for half a second as he watches the masked man tie the shoe like a servant.
“So you’re with that ‘F.I.E.L.D.S.’ thing, correct? I’ll tell you the truth, Jakey. That was Kirk’s idea to sign a promotional deal with your little organization to the EUW. I hardly found any interest at all in the concept of your little training programs on the computers and such. The press and the people of this company already have enough problems that have been gained over the years through other nitwits and their sneaking around, committing crimes and brokering various amounts of deals. People coming and going, expecting shit I’m not in the mood to give them now that I run things. It takes a lot of deserving to get something by me, and I think Kirk was willing to give F.I.E.L.D.S. a bargain it hadn’t quite gotten to the point of deserving yet. Professional wrestling has hundreds upon thousands of gimmicks going for it these days…but we only work for the best future. Don’t make this place bigger than it needs to be—just work it out on our terms.”
Jakeway jerks the lace and starts to rise.
“Would you mind fixing the other one for me? I’d prefer both shoes have the same pressure on my feet so as to prevent problems.”
He kneels back down, mumbling incoherently. This is not Jakeway’s idea of how the meeting with Kennedy would have gone.
“So long as your F.I.E.L.D.S. thing stays in line with standard Asylum workings, you won’t make overblown garbage the center of the universe. People are already talking of leaving as it is just because things have changed not to their complete and total liking.”
“To be fair, Mr. Kennedy, I’m just here to compete in a company I can get into without worrying about bad dealings I had in the past with other industries across this sport. Me, my team Redemption…this place, your Asylum, it’s just a fresh start for us. Everything else that goes on outside of getting us a ring to wrestle in and opponents to wrestle…”
Jakeways finishes the other shoe and rises to his feet. He nods at the completed shoes and then shrugs his shoulders softly.
“…is of little to no importance to us.”
Kennedy stares into the darkened eyes of Jakeway’s mask. He mumbles a bit and crosses his arms over his chest.
“Right…obviously. Anyway, all I demand of you is to not stir up any outrages you might have in plain sight. Keep edging on out there, get some proper results with your little ‘videogame wrestling’ on behalf of the Asylum and who knows? I may just make you a star one of these days.”
He lightly slaps Jakeway on his masked face and then examines his feet. He taps both shoes on the ground, testing the stability of the laces and pressure. After a few seconds he looks up and smiles lightly.
“Hmm…nice. And if that doesn’t go smoothly, maybe I’ll employ you to help me tie things.”
After a few moments, Chad Kennedy nods at Jakeway and then walks past him.
“I’m off to lunch now. It was a pleasure talking, Jake. You know like I said, there’s a press conference coming up down the line. You should check in, see if anything comes up that you think may concern you or your little gang and show you where you your place in my Asylum, Mr. Ewan Jakeway.”
A chuckle comes from Kennedy as he walks away, leaving Jakeway to watch him in silence.
“Thanks…………….Sir.”
It almost felt like an insult to bosses of his past to call Kennedy by such a title, but Jakeway chooses to put the thought aside as Kennedy vanishes from view. He slowly inhales and then exhales.
“From bored man to shoe-tying boy. Fabulous. I wrestle AND compete under the rich snobs...”
Ewan Jakeway pulled himself down into the cold steel chair settled near one of the back corners of the waiting area of the large, somewhat generically square office of the EUW. As it was, the place was considered a common place of business among the staff of Extreme United Wrestling, and was now under the eye of Chad Kennedy, which was who Jakeway was presently waiting for. It was a nice day out. Ewan’s eyes briefly glanced over to the small round window, the only one of its kind in the offices, and gazed at the sunlight shining through from the totally white clouds into the otherwise plain large room. Jakeway then gazed at the staff members moving like they’re on a mission to wherever it is they need to be, with whatever work they have with them looking important enough. He paid little attention to the posters of EUW hanging around, as well as the portraits that seemed to be the replacement for those self-motivation posters. Rather than cats hanging on poles, you got sweaty, half-naked muscle-bound men with hate-filled glares in their eyes as they looked back at you. Not much of a cozy-making environmental getup.
But soon enough, Jakeway knew he’d be back in the ring among those types. The “break” was up, and the ring had decided to call him back. Well, technically it was the very people he was sitting in this cold, cheap piece of steel waiting on who had summoned him back to compete again in the ring…but Jakeway liked to pretend it was more than just a few businessmen with mostly money on the mind who wanted Ewan Jakeway to return for another week of competitive brawling among hordes of screaming, excited fans of the sport. It just made things more fun. The calm and efficient manner in which these EUW staff members would keep on going, but Jakeway knew that sooner or later it would be stirred up. That is, if the rumors that were going were true. Would things change among the EUW in the coming months? And if they did, would Jakeway still have a place among the politics that would likely be set into motion? He wasn’t sure himself, but Jakeway had seen some power vacuums like that in his day. This peace and quiet of the EUW could very well explode into a million little bits, whether it was in the offices with the suits and their associates, or in the ring among wrestlers on the roster. Only a few people knew what was really going on right now, and Jakeway knew he was not one of them. Still, boredom does give one time to just let their thoughts ramble on and create points worth following in the period of idly sitting by…in this very unpleasant chair.
Fidgeting around, Jakeway tilts his head lazily to the side, eyeballing nobody in particular in the office as he crosses his arms over his leather jacket and folds one leg into his lap. Wearing the mask over his head, Jakeway has gotten some looks himself from people, particularly Chad Kennedy’s receptionist who situated him in the waiting area until Mr. Kennedy was done with whatever business was presently keeping him behind closed doors. Jakeway taps his gloved hands on his knees and hums to himself softly. He wasn’t fond of sitting around like a stump, especially when everyone else around him was busy with their own work. Jakeway wanted to train. He wanted to get focused on whatever was next in store for him here in the company. He wanted…SOMETHING! Being told to come to a dinky office and sit outside waiting for your boss to show himself wasn’t much of anything, not really. Heck, he even knew why he was here, so it wasn’t some big secret that Jakeway could at least muse over. He knew what the deal was, he was pretty sure nothing had changed regarding his stay here in the company, and he even knew his opponent in the next show:
Shawn Ashen, more-or-less your old-fashioned (and somewhat stereotypical) rich man who liked to do nothing but make the poor people like stupid and…well, poor. You couldn’t put much of a remix on that tune. You were stupid and poor in every which way, even when it came to your talent over his, and nothing would change that in Ashen’s eyes. Jakeway examines his appearance from head-to-toe, figuring someone like Ashen, who was always sporting classy suits and a clean appearance, would not approve of his twenty dollar jacket fitted over an old shirt over even older slacks. As for the mask? Jakeway wasn’t sure if high-priced equipment like this would catch Ashen’s attention, but that didn’t really matter. Either way, Jakeway crosses his arms and leans back a bit.
“Jeez-o-loo. How can life be full of so many surprises and interesting things, and yet I’m so bored right now? That just seems to go against the basic qualities of living…”
He tilts his head up and watches one of the several ceiling fans swinging high above for several seconds. His regular eyes roll toward Chad’s receptionist at her desk as she talks on the phone and writes something down. Man, he’d give anything just to be able to get some himself paper and a pen to write. He could make some mental notes, sketch out some ring strategies he had been cooking up, or he could just doodle. Going all the way back to second grade. And third grade. And fourth. And so on. But there was not much that could be done to fulfill that desire to amuse himself. He was grownup, and grownups waited patiently in offices when their job called them down to the office to speak to the boss. Still, would even an old “Newsweek” be too much to ask for? Jakeway stretches out his wrist, flexing it to keep the blood flowing.
“I can’t let myself get flimsy just by sitting here. I just want to finally meet up with the officials on behalf of F.I.E.L.D.S. and then focus on wrestling. Wrestling. That’s the job here. I’d exchange suits with one of these guys or gals if I were meant to spend my career in an office. Meanwhile Ashen’s probably in his own office/exotic gymnasium working out and preparing to compete in these next few days.”
Jakeway lifts his hand up and runs it across his mask, lightly tapping the mouthpiece that allows him to virtually speak his mind and catch no odd glances from anyone. Of course, even if he didn’t have that ability and was sitting here alone, he could fool people by saying he had a Bluetooth. Rich people had those, didn’t they? Jakeway figured that Shawn Ashen’s downloaded profile would not tell him that much. Probably not. That sort of information did not tie into Ashen’s wrestling background, which was what the database was strictly meant to store for his use. It just gave the specifics. Ashen, unlike Jakeway, felt that honor was nothing worth sporting in the ring, and the end result was the only thing that mattered. You were either a winner or you were a loser. Total black and white thinking. Winners had titles and/or impressive records and resumes on their side. Losers had nothing like that, or they were so minimal it made you the lowest common denominator. You were the poor type of wrestler compared to Shawn Ashen’s Enterprise of “I Am Great And You Are Not. Choke On It.” Some kind of character, this Ashen.
And yet Jakeway felt he had done pretty well so far for himself in the EUW when it came to those basic numbers of winning and losing. His debut had been impressive, taking on two veterans and actually pinning one of them cleanly. Then there had been his bout with Drake Johnson, a match that had gotten some talk; at least as much as one could ask for given that nobody outside the arena audience saw it. Still, that was the type of thing that let you know if you were something in the eyes of the audience. Their word of mouth meant everything in an untelevised contest. If the name Ewan Jakeway started to step up sometime soon among the company and through the roster, it was because people were seeing his performances every show in that ring, and they were going out to the rest of the world telling someone about it. It could be the Internet world they tell, other wrestling fans, or even themselves. It could continue on and possibly bring people back again to watch someday. Of course, if Jakeway was viewed as terrible in the eyes of fans and his peers and that word spread, it would have the same freedom to. Either way, with Ashen’s views on the subject matter of winning/losing…could Jakeway be viewed as a winner because he had not lost a match thus far? Maybe. Maybe not. Most likely the latter. The rich would always find a way to downplay any successes of the lower class that Jakeway knew he was a part of. It’s a fluke, it’s cheap dumb luck, or their opposition was already bad and that’s why they won. Jakeway had heard it all before. All that talk, all those putdowns, all that underestimating; it worked its way through staff and wrestler alike.
“I AM wondering what sort of talk Mr. Kennedy’s going to trying to play toward me when I see him. I admit I do not like all the backstage stuff that goes on between suits like him, but it still presents an interesting scenario I can play to later if need be.”
He looks toward the office door of Chad Kennedy and muses to himself about the EUW bossman’s personality once he finally emerges from his office. He lightly plays with the end of his leather jacket in thought, suddenly finding himself thinking about his Redemption brothers, Roman and Ethen. Truth be told, they cared even less for the politics among wrestling companies than Ewan did. That was a bit of the journey that led the three of them to the EUW. Jakeway smiled behind his mask, suddenly holding a hand to the side of his mouth.
“I suppose I COULD try out that communication wiring on the suit while I wait; see if I can’t find what those guys are up to…”
Jakeway continues to smile, as if he knows he’s being mischievous. Or at least the other two pieces of Redemption would see it that way he figured. He returns the mask audio to normal and turns his head toward the receptionist as she types out a report on her computer.
“Excuse me, ma’am, but would you happen to know if I will be waiting much longer?”
The receptionist, a cute mid-30s blonde, looks up from her computer to the masked man in the chair nearby.
“I wouldn’t think so. Mr. Kennedy’s just in a conference call right now.”
She turns back to her work and Jakeway nods his head. Jackpot. Jakeway switches back to having his voice otherwise muted to everyone else nearby. He lifts his hand up and holds down a button under his chin. A buzzing sound is heard, followed by the dial tone like your hear with any normal phone. Suddenly, his mask emits a small blue glow as the dial tone ends and soft classical music is heard in the background within Jakeway’s head. Ethen listening to classical music? Go figure. Jakeway lowers the red “eye” of his mask and presses another button. A red line appears to shoot out of it a few inches away and then widens into a holographic image. The moving image itself is a room, a small portion of the Redemption “HQ” (as Jakeway liked to think of it as at least) that appears in front of Jakeway. In a way, it’s like his own little webcam view into his team’s locker area, and presently he sees Ethen Bonelo playing chess with the board resting atop an old bar stool. The man in all black with the ominous black mask looks to be in deep concentration as he stares at the chess board, thinking out his next move as he plays against himself it looks like. Jakeway smiles at the sight of his partner. This is the part he knows will make him mischievous in the eyes of his more serious counterparts.
“Try moving the Knight to E6.”
Bonelo suddenly sits up straight, caught completely off-guard by the voice calling out to him seemingly from thin air.
“What the f—“
“Ethen, it’s Jakeway.”
“Ewan? Where the hell are you?”
“Ah, so you can hear me. Good. How’s it going?”
The uniform of Bonelo’s does nothing to lessen the awkwardness as he looks around the locker-room for wherever Jakeway’s voice is coming from. He moves the bar stool with the chess board aside as he rises to his feet and shifts his cape behind him so that he may move forward. It’s a bit more difficult to see his eyes with that mask on his head, but Jakeway knows from the years they’ve worked together that the man is wearing a puzzled expression as he slowly moves around the room.
“Uhhh…fine. And I assume everything is okay by you…Jakeway?”
“Yes. Everything is ok, I suppose. I’m at the EUW offices waiting to talk to Kennedy. Not sure it’s something you’d take much interest in, unless you like watching tiles grow older and older by the seconds.”
“I see…and why did you suddenly summon your spirit to appear and speak to me for that? On that matter, where are you?!”
“I take it you do not enjoy my company. I saw you playing chess there moments before I arrived. Why is Roman not there? He should get in on this.”
“He’s around. Just…okay, okay this is REALLY weird. Ewan, if this is a prank, just pop up and end it already. I’m trying to concentrate.”
“The thing is, this is not a prank, Ethen. I wired our locker-room to my suit. I can see you and I can hear you now.”
“You did what?!”
“I figured it would add up later on down the line. See, I just couldn’t help but notice that despite our best efforts to maintain a team-like unity, we’ve all been at our own individual workings lately since we joined the company.”
“And bugging our locker-room will end all of that?”
Jakeway could tell that this comment was not born of amusement but general curiousness, as if Ethen thinks Jakeway would legitimately think reason would come of this act.
“We’ve both got our ways to settle into teamwork zones, Ethen. Why, I know you and Roman have yours. Mine will have to wait until I get back, and so I figured I would drop in to see what the rest of Redemption is up to. Nothing else, and no harm intended.”
Bonelo slowly seems to calm a bit from the initial bafflement at having a disembodied voice speak to him. He goes back to his chair and eyes the chess board before looking around the locker-room, still unsure where Jakeway is emitting his voice from. Little does he know it’s in the pot. The potted plant, not a batch of drugs.
“I’m just trying to concentrate on my match. Roman and I are working against an opposing tag team this week, and I’m trying to piece together some plans to run past my partner when he returns.”
“At least you get to plan right now. I’m stuck waiting in this office for Kennedy to get out of his meeting or something. Not my type of planning setup, in all honesty. Say, you have anything for me on Shawn Ashen? I have some minimalistic bios to go by, but not much else.”
“Just that you’re a low form of scum against his intellectualness and complete in-ring perfection. Mostly the type you’ve always been placed against in the past, but I don’t suppose you need me to tell you that.”
“I hear he’s in the money business. That makes him quite snobby I’ve been reading. Must ring some bells for you too, huh Ethen?”
Ethen goes silent for a few seconds as he places his hand on one of the chess pieces and moves it forward. He mumbles something to himself, and Jakeway only catches parts of the sentence.
“Go……and then left….Oh, sorry, Ewan. I find it hard to multi-task sometimes, especially when a conversation is one of my tasks.”
“People like Ashen are a pretty reminding callback to the same opposition that always stood in the way of our team, aren’t they?”
“Yeah, I suppose they are. It’s always the money, Ewan. Money or the Goddamn power. Still, in some ways those vices buy them a lot of additional talent and backing, so you do well to take him serious. The rich can and will buy you up a bad way if you let them…or they’ll just buy you out.”
“Ah. When do I not take something serious, Ethen?”
Ethen exhales slowly, shaking his head as he does not even pretend he’ll answer that question of seriousness coming from a man who wired the team’s entire locker-room to his bizarre uniform/practical subunit workstation. Jakeway knows that is what Bonelo is thinking, and it makes him crack a smile under his mask. Several moments of silence pass, causing Jakeway to find himself feeling bored again. Clearly Ethen isn’t bored with his chess game allowing his mind to stay sharp, but the minimal office chatter and ringing phones steadily eats away at any concentration Jakeway could have built against Ashen. Jakeway flaps his gums and sighs. Bonelo seems to catch wind of his partner’s bored tone and his eyes roll up in the direction of the noise.
“Sorry I can’t amuse you, Jakeway.”
“Eh, hopefully this meeting will get to ending soon and I—“
Suddenly, Chad Kennedy’s office door opens and the man himself walks out, paying no attention to the masked Jakeway even as he passes by him in the chair. Jakeway looks toward the EUW bossman and reaches his hand up to his mask.
“Shit, speak of the devil. Gotta go, Ethen. Give Roman my greetings.”
He doesn’t even wait for a response before powering off the holographic image of the Redemption locker-room and then rising to his feet. However, Jakeway suddenly stops in mid-movement as he realizes what he’s done in his haste.
“Great.”
He quickly reaches a gloved hand into his pocket and pulls out the small padded jar. He then reaches into his slacks and pulls out quarter, which he promptly inserts into small slot on the jar’s top. The quarter hits the bottom of the jar and Jakeway, satisfied that’ll keep him from reverting to old ways for a while, returns his focus to Kennedy, who is walking past the desk of his receptionist looking rather uninterested in the office setting just like Jakeway has been for the past half-hour. He slowly moves forward, addressing his leather jacket a bit trying to look nicer for his EUW superior. Kennedy leans forward to his receptionist while fidgeting with his tie.
“I’m out to lunch, Daisy. You, uh, just keep things at a halt if they try to get to my office while I’m out, got it?”
The blonde receptionist looks away from the computer and nods her head in understanding.
“Yes, sir.”
Kennedy starts to leave when the receptionist seems to recall Jakeway who had been waiting all this time.
“Oh, and by the way, Mr. Kennedy. A Mr. Ewan Jakeway of the F.I.E.L.D.S. program is here to see you.”
“Where?”
Kennedy looks around in confusion. He then turns around completely and sees Ewan standing a few feet away. The EUW General Manager cocks an eyebrow as he looks the mask wearing, leather-jacket dressed man over like he’s a total oddball. Jakeway can honestly admit he probably does look a little odd compared to Chad in his nice suit and tie. A few seconds of awkward silence pass before the GM approaches Jakeway with an artificial grin that does next to nothing to hide his disinterest and holds out his hand.
“Ah yes, Jakeway. The Asylum’s been…talking about you.”
That sounded like the picture perfect example of a boss bullshitting an employee he has no real clue about, but Jakeway pretends to not notice as he shakes Kennedy’s hand. He says something; however, it goes unheard as Jakeway, in the process of addressing his swearing moment, forgot to switch his audio back to where others can hear him outside the mask, and so the shaking of Kennedy's hand is only followed by silence. Kennedy frowns a bit at that fact.
"You know, most people say 'hello' when greeting the General Manager of the company who keeps them in a job."
Jakeway realizes his goof and holds up a finger to stop Kennedy for a few seconds as he presses the button on the side of his mask and is then capable of speaking to his boss now.
"Sorry, Sir. Just a minor goof with my uniform is all."
Chad cocks an eyebrow once more at the reasoning behind Jakeway's initial silence, but takes little interest otherwise as he rolls his eyes. Jakeway cringes within, knowing he just made himself look like an idiot already.
“Say, I’m kind of late for lunch as it is. If you still want to talk, you mind if we do it quick-like on my way out?”
Jakeway responds with a nod and the two begin to walk across the office room.
“So sir, I figured I should finally make our acquaintances before I continue my business further here in the EUW. I, uh, I know I’ve competed here a few times already thus far, and I wasn’t sure if this conversation would need to be had earlier.”
“It’s fine. You compete, leave the talking to other people. Right now the Asylum’s working around changes that are still pretty new, so I’m sure our meeting not happening right away would pose no problem among my company. Press conferences and the like to calm any fears and put others in their place are what I'm dealing with at the moment. I actually have one next week. It’s all about giving the people of the Asylum some more news every so often to let them know we are the best and we plan to stay that way with staff and all.”
Kennedy turns a corner and stumbles a bit, catching himself almost smoothly if not for the expletive he mutters darkly. He stops and turns back to Jakeway, eyeing him again like he’s some bizarre alien life-form. Jakeway nods his head once.
“I see. I actually met one of your staff a few weeks ago. Rocko MacCraw.”
Kennedy rolls his eyes at the mention of the cameraman who welcomed Jakeway to EUW a few weeks back while also posing as his contact that would introduce him to the company.
“The man’s pretty overrated in my book. He thinks that just because he was among the EUW’s cameramen back when this place first opened its doors it makes him some top elite among the ranks. Still, good employee who knows how to follow the top brass when it tells him to do something. You just follow his example and you’ll both be a pair to me, got it? Jesus!”
For the second time Kennedy stumbles and this time stops as he leans against a desk, staring at his shoe which has come untied and allowed the freed laces to hinder him as he walks. He looks toward Jakeway as he sits his bottom on the desktop.
“Say, Jakeway, would you kindly tie my shoe for me?”
Jakeway lifts his eyebrow up in confusion at the request. He stares down at Kennedy’s untied shoe and then back to the GM, who looks dead serious as he waits.
“I would do it myself, but I pulled something the other night with a lady friend. It’s difficult to bend, you see.”
Jakeway continues to find himself unnerved by this situation as Kennedy slowly rotate his foot, as if it will somehow be more inviting for Jakeway to kneel down and tie the man’s shoe for him. He slowly sighs within and kneels down to Kennedy’s shoe. He begins to tie it while Kennedy rests like a champ on the office desk, a small cocky grin crossing his face for half a second as he watches the masked man tie the shoe like a servant.
“So you’re with that ‘F.I.E.L.D.S.’ thing, correct? I’ll tell you the truth, Jakey. That was Kirk’s idea to sign a promotional deal with your little organization to the EUW. I hardly found any interest at all in the concept of your little training programs on the computers and such. The press and the people of this company already have enough problems that have been gained over the years through other nitwits and their sneaking around, committing crimes and brokering various amounts of deals. People coming and going, expecting shit I’m not in the mood to give them now that I run things. It takes a lot of deserving to get something by me, and I think Kirk was willing to give F.I.E.L.D.S. a bargain it hadn’t quite gotten to the point of deserving yet. Professional wrestling has hundreds upon thousands of gimmicks going for it these days…but we only work for the best future. Don’t make this place bigger than it needs to be—just work it out on our terms.”
Jakeway jerks the lace and starts to rise.
“Would you mind fixing the other one for me? I’d prefer both shoes have the same pressure on my feet so as to prevent problems.”
He kneels back down, mumbling incoherently. This is not Jakeway’s idea of how the meeting with Kennedy would have gone.
“So long as your F.I.E.L.D.S. thing stays in line with standard Asylum workings, you won’t make overblown garbage the center of the universe. People are already talking of leaving as it is just because things have changed not to their complete and total liking.”
“To be fair, Mr. Kennedy, I’m just here to compete in a company I can get into without worrying about bad dealings I had in the past with other industries across this sport. Me, my team Redemption…this place, your Asylum, it’s just a fresh start for us. Everything else that goes on outside of getting us a ring to wrestle in and opponents to wrestle…”
Jakeways finishes the other shoe and rises to his feet. He nods at the completed shoes and then shrugs his shoulders softly.
“…is of little to no importance to us.”
Kennedy stares into the darkened eyes of Jakeway’s mask. He mumbles a bit and crosses his arms over his chest.
“Right…obviously. Anyway, all I demand of you is to not stir up any outrages you might have in plain sight. Keep edging on out there, get some proper results with your little ‘videogame wrestling’ on behalf of the Asylum and who knows? I may just make you a star one of these days.”
He lightly slaps Jakeway on his masked face and then examines his feet. He taps both shoes on the ground, testing the stability of the laces and pressure. After a few seconds he looks up and smiles lightly.
“Hmm…nice. And if that doesn’t go smoothly, maybe I’ll employ you to help me tie things.”
After a few moments, Chad Kennedy nods at Jakeway and then walks past him.
“I’m off to lunch now. It was a pleasure talking, Jake. You know like I said, there’s a press conference coming up down the line. You should check in, see if anything comes up that you think may concern you or your little gang and show you where you your place in my Asylum, Mr. Ewan Jakeway.”
A chuckle comes from Kennedy as he walks away, leaving Jakeway to watch him in silence.
“Thanks…………….Sir.”
It almost felt like an insult to bosses of his past to call Kennedy by such a title, but Jakeway chooses to put the thought aside as Kennedy vanishes from view. He slowly inhales and then exhales.
“From bored man to shoe-tying boy. Fabulous. I wrestle AND compete under the rich snobs...”